


Head Full of Hate and Book Full of Love

by ArtistActressAthena



Series: Sanders Sides High School AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, High School AU, I still don't know how tags work, M/M, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtistActressAthena/pseuds/ArtistActressAthena
Summary: Roman is given a mysterious sketchbook by the school's biggest bullies. But what will he do when he sees what's inside?(This is Roman's point of view during the events of The Sketchbook.)AUDIO FIC ADDED 1-31-2019





	Head Full of Hate and Book Full of Love

**Author's Note:**

> AUDIO FIC: https://youtu.be/2qQUTVJMCBA  
> Narrated by: romanmustberomantic  
> Added: 1-31-2019
> 
> tw: self-deprecation, body negativity, slight language, slight homophobic language
> 
> Hey everyone!  
> As per a request, this is the events of my first fic "The Sketchbook" but through Roman's point of view. I hope you enjoy!

Roman Prince stood and studied his face in the dirty boy’s bathroom mirror.

It was safe to say he didn’t like what he saw, but it’s not like he could just say that out loud. He had a reputation to uphold. But still, he looked, and the more he looked at himself, the more he was reminded that he really, truly, hated the way he looked.

His hair was wavy and a light shade of brown. He ruffled it and tried to shape it, but it was no use. Once it fell out of place, there was no point in trying to fix it. He wished his hair was more manageable.

His forehead, although you couldn’t see it, was covered with acne. Same with his nose and chin. He used concealer and foundation to cover it up, which he knew made the acne worse, but it beat having to go to school with a pimply face every day. He wished he had clearer skin that some brand of ultra-strong acne wash could fix. He’d tried way too many, and none of them had worked.

He wished he had a smaller nose. He wished he had fuller lips. He wished he didn’t have so many moles. He wished… _a lot of things,_ Roman thought with a sad smile as Jack’s mother’s voice from _Into The Woods_ filled the thought for him.

His eyes were a light, warm shade of brown, and every so often, the light hit them _just_ right and it looked like a million pennies had shattered in his eyes.

His eyes were the only part of himself he didn’t hate. He wished the rest of his body matched his eyes.

And it wasn’t just the outside he didn’t like today.

He was confident in his abilities. _You’re cocky and self-centered._

He had a passion for the arts. _You’re not manly enough._

He had very strong emotions. _You’re weak for letting them show._

He was a strong supporter of the LGBTQ+ community. _You’re gay, and you’re too afraid to come out._

And _gods,_ who would believe him if he told someone he was insecure? Any normal person would think Roman had it all and they’d probably shrug it off, or not believe him, or just ignore him.

Sometimes he wished he was a different person. A person who could get through the day without nagging thoughts in the back of his head telling him change who he was. Without other people telling him to ‘be a man’. He _was_ a man, goddamnit! Theatre and emotions and gayness didn’t change that. He rolled his eyes at the thoughts. Sometimes he wished society could just let boys be feminine. Now _there_ was a good wish.

But sometimes…sometimes Roman just wished he wasn’t him.

Roman heard howling laughter felt a fist connect with the small of his back. He snapped out of his thoughts and turned around to see Dorian and Jess smirking and holding out a worn, leather-bound sketchbook.

“Hey, Prince, check out these creepy drawings the fag made,” Dorian said, snickering.

“Seriously,” Jess said, “Every fucking drawing is of you. It’s so gross.” He shoved the book into Roman’s chest and the pair left. Roman flipped them off from behind the book. He checked his phone – _oh, shoot, I missed the late bus –_ and texted his half-brother to ask him to pick him up. Yeah, it kind of sucked having a license but no car.

**Roman Prince [4:57 PM]: Heyyyyyyyyyy my darling half-brother who i love very dearly**

**Microsoft Nerd [4:58 PM]: You missed the late bus again, didn’t you?**

**Roman Prince [4:58 PM]: mayyyyyyybeeeeeeee?**

**Microsoft Nerd [5:00 PM]: I’ll be there in approximately twenty minutes.**

**Roman Prince [5:01 PM]: ur the best**

**Microsoft Nerd [5:01 PM]: Don’t you forget it.**

Roman walked out to the front of the building and plopped himself on the ground. He had twenty minutes to kill and he really didn’t feel like doing any homework, so he decided to focus his attention to the mysterious sketchbook that had been gifted to him by the school’s biggest assholes. On one hand, he knew sketchbooks were personal and treasured items and you really shouldn’t look through somebody else’s. But on the other hand, they’d said _every single drawing_ was of Roman and even though Dorian and Jess were dickheads, curiosity got the better of him. He flipped open the sketchbook.

The first picture was a sketch of a formal photo, and it was indeed of Roman. It looked like his yearbook picture, just blown up in size. Roman was amazed. This artist really had talent and paid incredibly careful attention to detail. He searched the paper for a signature but the only thing he could find was some unintelligible chicken-scratch just below picture-Roman’s jaw.

Roman carefully flipped to the next page. This drawing was of him as well. It was a copy of a picture of him performing at a local children’s theatre. Once again, the charcoal sketch looked incredibly real and well-drawn. Roman found the signature again and was distinctly able to make out the second letter – X – but not much else.

Roman flipped through page after page after page, and Dorian and Jess were right – every drawing in the half-filled sketchbook so far was of him. Him in theatre, him passing by in the hallway, him in science class – and no other class, actually – the artist had drawn him pretty much everywhere. But they were all pretty incredible drawings, in Roman’s opinion. And through careful analysis and the power of inference, Roman determined that the signature was the artist’s initials. VXS.

It wasn’t until the second flip-through when Roman realized it.

_I look…beautiful._

He was right. The mysterious artist had somehow managed to turn everything he hated about himself into features of a beautiful face. In every single drawing, whether it be candid or formal, whether it be happy or bittersweet or thoughtful, Roman looked absolutely stunning.

But somehow, the drawings looked exactly like him.

_Is this…is this how someone else sees me?_

Roman felt his chest tighten and a blush rise to his face. _This is how someone sees me. Someone thinks I’m beautiful enough to draw over and over again._

He clutched the book to his chest and let out a dreamy sigh. Any normal person probably would’ve found the book creepy, or even borderline stalker-like, but Roman had never been normal, and well…

Dorian and Jess had said a “fag” had drawn these. So presumably, it was a gay guy. _Well, one step closer to finding who this artist is._

Yeah, Roman was going to find the artist. And if all went well he’d kiss the guy on the spot.

Leave it to Roman goddamn Prince to get a crush on a person before even meeting them. But hey, sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches.

.o0o.

After art class the next day, Roman studied the pictures on the walls, seeing if any of Mr. Foster’s art contest winners were his artist. Roman presumed that since his artist was so talented, he would have submitted something and he probably would have won.

Roman blushed and smiled to himself. He liked calling mystery guy “his artist”, who knows why. It was most likely just a Roman thing.

He paused when he approached the charcoal sketch of the castle steeped in fog. Roman had always known that it was there and it was fantastic, but as he studied it, he noticed a remarkable similarity between the drawing style used to make the castle on the wall and the drawing style used to make Roman in the sketchbook. Roman glanced down at the bottom right-hand corner, and sure enough, expertly manipulated to look like highlights on the grass in the foreground, was a small VXS. He smiled and called out to the art teacher.

“Hey, Mr. Foster? Could I ask you something?”

Mr. Foster clumsily stepped out of the storage closet, balancing a bunch of paint cans and markers on his paint-splattered hair and in his Sharpie-covered arms. “Just a second!” he called out as he dumped the supplies on his desk and ran over to the opposite side of the room where Roman was standing. He gave Roman a friendly grin. “What do you need, Roman? I’m happy to help in any way I can!”

Roman pointed to the castle drawing. “Do you know who submitted this one?” he asked.

Mr. Foster gave a sheepish grin and shook his head. “It was submitted anonymously – and by that I mean it just showed up on my desk the morning of the contest deadline,” he said with a laugh. “Any particular reason why you wanted to know?”

“The signature is the same as all the signatures in this sketchbook,” Roman explained, showing Mr. Foster the cover of the book. “The person who owns this got it stolen from him and the thieves gave it to me, so I’m on a quest to get this sketchbook back to its artist!”

“Well, that’s very noble of you, Roman,” Mr. Foster said. “I’d personally recommend asking Dr. Picani, the school counselor. He might know who owns it.”

“Thank you!” Roman yelled as he waved and ran out of the classroom. Mr. Foster waved back, smiling.

Math sucked, history was boring, English was awesome, and science was…interesting.

When Roman turned his head to ask his lab partner Valerie for a pencil, he noticed a boy sitting alone in the back of the room and doodling in a medium sized, tan, leather-bound sketchbook. He was wearing a black hoodie with violet patches and he had purple bangs that fell across half of his face, and Roman was far enough away that he couldn’t clearly see the rest of the boy’s face anyway.

“Here’s your pencil, Roman,” Valerie said, tapping Roman’s shoulder blade with the eraser and shaking him from his thoughts.

“Thank you,” he replied, turning back around and mindlessly writing down whatever the teacher was saying.

But as turned back around to glance at the doodling boy slouched in his seat with what looked like the ghost of a smile, Roman couldn’t help but wonder…

**RIIIIIIIING**

_There goes the school bell. Finally._ Roman hurriedly shoved all his books into his backpack and bolted up the stairs to Dr. Picani’s office. He slammed open the door and gave the school counselor a tired wave, taking in the fairy lights strung across the ceiling and the cartoon plushies, figurines, and posters that adorned the room.

“Oh, hello there, Roman Prince!” Dr. Picani greeted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before. Do you how do?”

“I’m doing well; you?” Roman asked as he heaved himself into the sofa. Dr. Picani slid himself and his rolling chair so he was facing Roman.

“I’m doing great; thank you for asking! Now, what seems to be your objective for paying me a visit today?”

Roman fished into his backpack and pulled out the sketchbook. He handed it to Dr. Picani as he explained, “I don’t know who this belongs to and I want to return it, but Mr. Foster didn’t know whose it was so he told me to go to you.”

“I do know who this belongs to,” Dr. Picani said to himself. He gave the sketchbook back to Roman and muttered something along the lines of, “This belongs to [insert name that Roman couldn’t make out here].”

“Sorry, what was that?” Roman asked.

“You can’t miss him if you look,” Dr. Picani said, ignoring Roman’s question. “He wears a lot of dark clothing, and is often at the back of the classroom listening to music or doodling. Also, his hair is purple.”

Roman smiled as the boy from science class popped into his head. _So it was him!_

“Thank you, Dr. Picani,” Roman said. “I’ll return it to him tomorrow.”

“You do that,” Emile replied. “Buhbye now!”

“See ya,” Roman said as he left the office.

.o0o.

_My goodness, where the hell did he go?_ Roman thought the next day at lunch. His dark artist was nowhere to be found in the cafeteria. He sighed and headed outside.

It was usually only the freshmen who sat out here, but maybe his artist liked the fresh air – or he preferred it to the cafeteria. He seemed like the kind of person who would sit and draw outside, but what the hell did Roman know about the guy?

Enough, apparently, because Roman spotted him sitting off in a corner by himself in the shade. He didn’t have headphones today, but he was still drawing. He looked pretty peaceful. Roman clutched the sketchbook to his heart and slowly moved over to the boy’s spot on the grass.

“Can I sit here?” he asked.

The boy looked up at him with a confused expression, and Roman’s first thought was _eyes._ They were dark brown and mysterious and they looked like pools of chocolate and Roman could stare at them for hours. After that, he took in the rest of the boy’s appearance. He was…thin. Everywhere. Thin frame, thin jaw, thin nose, thin eyebrows, thin hair, thin lips. He had freckles all over his face and he wore dark eyeshadow underneath his eyes. He was exceptionally cute, in Roman’s opinion.

The boy turned bright red and brought his face back down to his sketchbook. “Sure,” he squeaked.

Roman smiled and nestled himself in the grass and carefully peered over the boy’s shoulder to see what he was drawing. It appeared to be the Volkswagen Beetle parked nearby, and the art style was all too familiar to him.

“Did you draw that?” Roman asked, pointing to the sketch. “It’s wonderful!”

The boy slammed his sketchbook shut and refused to make eye contact. “I-It’s just a s-sketch; it’s n-n-not very g-good…”

Roman decided this boy was too talented for self-deprecation. “Nonsense,” he declared. “It’s fantastic! You have a gift!”

 “Why are you talking to me, Roman Taylor Prince?” the boy snapped. “Why are you out here when you should be inside with all of your friends? Do you even know who I am?”

Roman was at a loss for words. He wished he could say _yes, I know who you are,_ but that wasn’t the truth. He always registered that the boy existed, but he barely knew anything about him until yesterday. He’d been drawing Roman for half a year. He felt awful.

And then, Roman remembered the one thing he did know.

 “I know your initials.”

The boy looked up at him. “What?”

“I know your initials,” Roman repeated. “They’re VXS.”

“How the hell –” Roman carefully handed him his sketchbook and the boy’s eyes widened.

He snatched the book from Roman and looked away again. “So that’s it,” he said angrily. “You were going to gang up with Dorian and Jess and humiliate me by showing off all the drawings to everyone and yelling, ‘HEY GUESS WHAT, THIS LOSER GAY KID HAS A MILLION CREEPY DRAWINGS OF ME’?” The boy glared. “Well, sorry to foil your plans.”

Roman once again had no idea what to say. He knew he would never purposefully hurt somebody like that, and it broke his heart to see this boy defaulting to resolutions as dark as _that_. So he did the Roman thing to do and changed the subject.

“What does VXS stand for?” Roman asked.

“ _What._ ”

“What is your name?” Roman asked again. “What do your initials stand for?”

“I…” the boy sighed. “Virgil,” he muttered. “Virgil Xavier Sanders. I’m sorry for all…” he gestured to the sketchbook, “…this. And I get it if you think I’m creepy and weird or you hate me because most people do and I’m sorry for bothering you and…I’m gonna go.” He started to pack up his things and was about to stand up and that’s when Roman realized the conversation could not and would not end here. He put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and Virgil looked back at him with wide eyes. Roman flushed and gave him a soft smile.

“I don’t hate you, Virgil,” he said. “And I’m not going to humiliate you. At least, not intentionally. And you’re weird, yes, but being weird is fantastic!”

“You did look in that sketchbook, right?” Virgil asked.

Roman gave Virgil a sad smile. “Dorian and Jess had given me the sketchbook, along with some not-so-sunshine words about the person who’d drawn them.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Was it ‘look at all these dirty drawings a fag made of you?’”

Roman’s eyes widened. “That was pretty much word for word,” he admitted. “When I opened the sketchbook I was pretty worried, but then…” he sighed dreamily. “I looked…happy, and wistful, and beautiful in those drawings. I found it hard to believe someone thought I was beautiful enough to draw again and again and again.” The thought of what had happened in the boy’s bathroom a few days ago, and how much he needed the unspoken words in that sketchbook, was enough to make Roman well up. He looked down at his shoes.

“It was the first time I really believed I was beautiful,” Roman whispered.

Virgil felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. “Well…you kind of are,” he said quietly, gesturing to Roman’s face, and Roman felt himself blushing again.

“I was so wonderstruck by the drawings, I knew I had to find the person who had drawn them,” he said, “and that’s when I noticed you. Well, I’d always known you were _there_ , normally doodling and sketching at the back of the class, but then I remembered the art contest.”

“You…remembered that?”

“I remembered the charcoal drawing of a castle that was submitted anonymously and got second place. I went to the art room to look at it, and sure enough, the signature on that drawing was the same one on all of the sketches – VXS.”

“So you asked Mr. Foster.”

“I did, but he didn’t know who had drawn it, so yesterday after school I went to Dr. Picani and showed him the sketchbook, because I did want to return it. He took one look at it and knew it was yours, and, well, here we are.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Virgil grumbled, which made Roman gasp.

“Dissapoint?” he asked, astounded. “I’m not disappointed. Not one bit.”

“Really?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “Really.”

 “How?” Virgil asked desperately. “It’s _me_. That loser emo artist kid who never talks to anyone and spends all his time listening to Fall Out Boy and drawing pretty boys in his sketchbook.” 

Roman felt his heart ache for this boy, this boy who thought so little of himself but was actually worth so much more than he said.

Maybe it was because he knew what thinking so little of yourself felt like.

“It’s you,” Roman echoed. “That artsy boy who made me feel so beautiful and so, so loved with his incredible drawings. That boy who seems to put himself down far more often than he deserves. That boy I feel guilty for not knowing more about, but I would love to get to know better.” He winked at Virgil and he tensed up.

“Um…okay, so I’m not the best at social cues –”

Roman shook his head and smiled to himself. This boy was seriously cute. “I’m asking you out,” Roman said, chuckling.

“Like on a date?” Virgil asked.

“ _No_ , to go study at the library,” Roman said sarcastically, rolling his eyes fondly. “Yes, on a date. Well?”

Virgil tore out a piece of his sketchbook paper and scribbled something on it. After giving it to Roman, he nodded. Roman looked at the paper and there was a phone number written in hasty chicken-scratch.

The lunch bell rang and Roman gave Virgil a wide grin as he scooped up his notebooks and the fated piece of paper. “I’ll text you, alright?”

Virgil nodded again as he picked up his own stuff. “Sure.”

“Well, until then, see you around, my dark and emo knight,” he said, taking Virgil’s free hand and pressing a short kiss to his knuckles. Virgil giggled (which Roman found to be the most adorable sound in existence) and he waved to Roman as Roman walked back into the school.

Roman couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are appreciated!


End file.
